Angels & Brutes
by Mr. Tomorrow
Summary: Private Jay T. Warren is more or less done for. Isolated, overrun, and left for dead amongst a sudden covenant takeover, he could certainly use a bit of help. Of course, this is where the more colorfull characters come in... [I haven't written in a while, so I figured a bit of FanFiccing would do me good. This is my first one too, so let me know if I made any obscene errors.]


The banshee shook violently as it swooped over Pvt. Warren's head in a beautiful violet arch and left a trail of dispersed plasma and charred corpses in its wake.

Warren ducked under a nearby car as the banshee let out a round, feeling the car's frame sink around him after a direct hit from a stray bolt. He heard the distorted cries of his comrades, but could do nothing until the whining screech of the banshee had gained some distance. He quickly slid out from under the sizzling metal and called out to his squad mates. No answer came, and his eyes caught the shriveled, smoking remains of two of them, whose identities he couldn't distinguish.

Warren threw sharp curses at the circling banshee, then ran over and snatched his assault rifle from the ground and replaced the curses with bullets.

The banshee turned back for another volley.

Muttering more curses, Warren gave up trying to pierce the vehicle's hull with medium-caliber rounds and, dodging patches of flame along the ground, ran and slid back under the car as the banshee opened fire. But this time, another noise interrupted it: a sharp whir that faded in and out, shortly accompanied by a metallic explosion. He only caught a glimpse of hot white and purple light before the car was on top of him. It snapped into segments from the heat and pressure from the top of its frame, more or less engulfing him in hard blanket of hot metal.

He pushed against the car above him. Useless. His rifle, having been held upright when the car collapsed, propped up the segment directly above his head, allowing a bit of airflow and a small view port if he lifted his head a little, but far too small to squeeze through, even if he could position himself to. As it was, he was stuck on his back, under a cheap car that may or may not be electric. It might as well explode, he thought to himself. Nothing outside to escape to but more death, more impossible odds. What kind of idiot fights a lost battle?

His eyes were starting to close when he heard voices.

Brutes? No, there were no active patrols in this sector, or so he was told. The voices, some thirty feet behind him, muffled by hard metal and roaring flame, seemed too high for brutes but too low for grunts or jackals. As they drew closer, his eyes widened. They were human.

And they were arguing about something.

"Well, if you don't want to be here, go wait inside", the male voice, a bit boyish, said.

"Yeah, like that's ever gonna happen" said a female voice.

"Well, at least stay away from the flaming purple thing."

"I'll try to remember that."

Warren suddenly gathered his senses and shouted out to them. "Hello? In here!"

The voices stopped and shifted to swift footsteps. They stopped, and he lifted his head as far as the metal trapping him would allow, straining to see through the gap. "Hello?"

A face popped in on the other side: a strange, elongated young face. "Need some help in there, soldier?"

That was a stupid question. "Yeah."

"Hold on then." The man stood up."Clara, if you don't mind." He ducked back into view. "Now, when I say so, I need you to push up on this thing as hard as you can. Alright?"

"Yeah, sure."

The man stuck his scrawny fingers under the edge of the gap and solidified his grip. "On three then."

"Ow, that's hot!"

"That's because it's on fire, Clara; grab the lower end."

Warren readied his palms against the plate of metal above him.

"Ready? One, two, th—hold on, just had a thought."

"Well, that's unusual."

"Heh. If we pull this out of the way, the rest of it could collapse on him, possibly crush something important…"

"Like a plastic adipose toy?"

"Oh, will you let go of that already? I got rid of it, what more do you—anyway, we can't get him out like _this_."

Warren dropped his hands and sighed.

"We could use the Tardis." She said.

"Oh don't be silly. Now, we—I got it!" Hands clapped together in excitement. "We'll use the Tardis!" The man bent down to address him again. "Now, you're going to materialize in a swimming pool, so don't panic or mutate into any kind of nasty hydro creature, alright?"

Warren nodded. "Wait, what the—"

"Alright, then." The man jumped up and started off, then came back. "I'm the Doctor, by the way."

"Private Jay T. Warren, UNSC. Um, Doctor what?"

The man frowned.

...

Warren climbed out of the pool and accepted a towel from the nameless doctor.

"Now", the Doctor began, "Not so bad, was it?"

Warren brought the towel down from his face. "What. The hell. Was that?"

"First thing's first", the Doctor replied while waving his hands about abscent-mindedly. "What year is it on this Not-Excelis planet of yours?"

"How do you not—"

"I tend to lose track and my calendar isn't on speaking terms with me right now. Answer the question."

Warren scratched his head. Hell, maybe _he _had forgotten it. "Uh, 2552, I think. Yeah."

"Ha! I _knew_ this wasn't Excelis. What planet then?"

This guy was either nuts or testing if Warren was. "Earth."

The Doctor seemed taken aback. "_No_, that doesn't make any sense!" He started pacing back and forth from the wall to the edge of the pool and back. "I've been to Earth in 2552 and it was not like this. That big flaming purple thing is unlike anything I've ever seen- well, what's left of it." He started waving his hands around again, like he was directing an orchestra. "Something's very wrong here, very very wrong."

I could have told you that, Warren thought.

The Doctor paused. "Hold on, did you say UNSC?"

"Ten minutes ago? Yeah."

"Not the Earth Alliance?"

"The what?"

The Doctor froze. "I need to get Clara inside." With that he took off like a bullet, and Warren trailed behind him.

As they zipped through a few corridors, the Doctor yelled behind him, "Is there anything else out there?"

As they entered some sort of control room, Warren glanced about, even more confused than before, and hesitated. "Um, there shouldn't be…unless—"they burst through a set of bright blue doors, into a circle of armed brutes. One of them held the girl under its arm like a ragdoll.

"…Unless they sent a patrol to inspect the scene of a downed air unit", muttered the Doctor.

Warren cursed under his breath, and added bitterly, "Welcome to New Mombasa."


End file.
